Center Circles
by JuvJuvychan
Summary: After 5 yrs of no imformation leading him to his parents killer Harry finally receives a solid lead. Returning to the London Order Harry begins to unreval the mysteries surrounding the Order Death Eaters and Deathly Hallows. Can Harry still find love?
1. Prologue: Fairytales

Juvy Finally getting out a new story! Whoo! And its Harry/Cedric! I'm so happy I'm glowing.

Juv: No more pop-tarts for you.

DISCLAIMER: We don't own ANYTHING. JK Rowling and co. own EVERYTHING. We'd make a snarky comment but honestly Joe scares us a little. So WE DON'T OWN Harry Potter

* * *

_15 years ago_

Once upon a time there lived four great and powerful generals of the churches' secret army. These generals were given permission however by the king and queen to created their own society of warriors outside the church. In doing so they founded a special guard force charged with the noble task of protect England and her people. The four generals took refuge at a cottage home, located in a small town known at Hogsmeade. Soon, however, as more and more people came to join them in the fight against all things evil their little home grew and grew. Until one day it was as big as a castle. The four founders named this castle Hogwarts.

Hogwarts was known as magical place were children could come to learn the ways of the magic and swordsmanship. They learned to protect the people of the homeland and its royal family. Things were very bright in that small town which housed the huge castle, but as with every story goes where there is light there exists darkness as well. For the sun cannot live without the moon as its reflection. The world is forever balanced this way. For slowly as clash of ideals came into play revealing ugly truths long denied. Humans were greedy, wicked, and vile. One of the beloved founders started poisoning the minds of others. Or so the story goes. For in life, lines are often blurred.

Our dear founder, a snake trapped within a beautiful garden, wanted only to protect a certain kind a race. A certain kind of people. People, who were stronger, better, smarting, in every way than any of the poor lowly trash that had infested England. A true paradise fit for the glorious crown to reign supreme. Surprisingly—or perhaps not so—many agreed. With the power an axe words soon cut the school in two. Finally outnumber, but filled with unshakable passion, our snake slithered away followers in tow.

Four had been, three were left. Only one cried, the sweetest kindest one, one held strong in his pride, the last predicted it all for she was the most clever. She saw the start of it, the seedling that had grown fast and true. What she didn't know was what that seed would become. A beautiful rose, or a twisted vine riddled with thorns?

Through her kind tears one founder cried, "was he truly wrong? In our eyes yes but in his own was he? Is it so wrong to believe in what one believes? Is it so wrong?"

Time passed and so emerged two groups from the black ashes of Hogwarts. The Order of the Phoenix, and the Death Eaters. Both after similar goals; to protect yet vastly different methods and beliefs. It was whom they protect that caused strife and hatred to form. But even the great founders cannot fight time forever, as leaves fall, snow follows, and life renews, they each grew old and brittle. No longer able to protect as they once could. So time, like water, erased their existence from the earth. So passed to legend, to myth, to finally fairytale.

"But momma," a little boy of gray eyes asked, "if they both wanted to protect people why'd they fight?" Eyes gleaming with innocence she tucked him deeper in his yellow blankets smiling.

"You must remember my son; Salazar only wanted to protect _some_ people. Certain people of his choosing. But the others knew that no one has the power, nor the right to decide who lives or dies. They knew all people should be protected from evil. Not some." Her little son nodded not truly understanding everything he was told but still feeling the sincerity of it nonetheless. She giggled ruffling his brown hair kissing his forehead. Getting up she made her exit from her son's room. She reaching the doorway she was about to flip the light switch when he called her back.

"Momma?"

"Yes, dearest?" She said smiling.

"Who do you believe I'm most like? Godric the brave, Helga the kind, or Rowena the wise?"

"Oh dear," she blew him one final kiss before switching out the light. "Remember my love, it's only a story, nothing more, nothing less. Sensing disappointment coming from her son she continued, but if I had to say, I would say Helga. For I have never seen kinder gray eyes in anyone."

"Good night momma." The child mumbled happily.

"Good night, my dearest Cedric." She murmured shutting the door behind her.

* * *

Juvy: Well that's the prologue. Thanks for reading.


	2. Welcome Home

Juvy: This is our newest story and its Harry/Cedric finally! I've been wanting to write a H/C story for the longest time! I'm so proud of myself for getting off my lazy a and doing it! Go me! Now if I can only hope it's any good.

Juv: You know we still have to finish that other HP story right? The H/Hr one.

Juvy: Yeah 'bout that...

Juv: Disclaimer time: We don't own ANYTHING. All rights are reserved to JK Rowling and co. We'd make a snarky comment but Jo kinda scares us sometimes. She really would sue. So we own NOTHING!

* * *

A flash of green light painted the room before enveloping his mother in its treacherous grasp. Her scream erupted throughout the house shaking the windows, the roof shingles, and finally her small child's eardrums. A single scream that would haunt the child forever. A single scream that shattered everything good, everything wonderful, and anything possible in one innocent child's life. A single scream…

Harry awoke with body jerking violently sending his blankets—now soaked in sweat—flying off his sticky body. Her rubbed his green eyes, eyes that resembled that frightening color so very much. That horrid color that had sealed his mother's fate forever. That had caused that terrible mind-numbing scream. At twenty-two years of age Harry honestly felt he was over—no never _over_—having such disturbing nightmares. Yet they persisted. It was strange almost. For Harry had not experienced this same nightmare for a long time. Sometimes he'd see fallen comrades, or the face of a victim—those faces forever branded into his eyes—but to have a dream about the death of his mother, while it wasn't exactly new it was still…unexpected.

The door opened with a quiet squeak. Harry reached for his glasses to greet his new visitor. She smiled at him walking over to sit beside him. He looked at her wordlessly but his eyes spoke for him. She didn't say anything; for that he was grateful. Instead she wrapped one arm around his shoulders pulling him close to her. Her bushy brown hair caught his nose causing a sniffle sneeze combination to erupt. They both laughed gently. The door squeaked again to reveal another visitor joining the group.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" He spoke with a smile. Hermione threw a pillow at his face. They both laughed as Ron let out a very unmanly 'eek' when ducking the flying object. "Yeah, yeah," he grumbled climbing to sit on the other side of Harry. "So..." he began, "n'other one huh?" Hermione rolled her eyes at his lack of sensitivity but Harry didn't mind getting straight to the point. Sometimes he welcomed it.

"Yeah, another one." They sat in silence chewing on the topic that lay heavy in their minds. How to approach it, how to deal with it, how to make it go away? Harry was all out of fresh ideas. Hermione's ideas included going to a therapist, which he'd never allow. If he'd did that the Order might question his ability to perform on missions. Which Harry needed if he was going to track down his parents' killer. Stuck at a desk filing paper work because of a 'mental imbalance' was not going to happen. Ron's blunt idea of just dealing with it hadn't been working well but it was still better than seeing some shrink.

"Harry I really believe it would be best if—"

"No," he stated firmly cutting her off. "I'm not, under any circumstances going to see some shrink Hermione. No, no—I—the Order—"

"Forget the Order!" She cried even in the dark Harry could see the tears pooling in her brown eyes. They had been best friends, the three of them, since they were small children. Even then Harry hated to see her cry, Ron as well.

"Aw Hermione…"

"No Ronald you know as well as I that Harry's nightmares are only getting worse. Something _is_ wrong, I can feel it, you can feel it. Something's just not _right_." She stressed. Harry released a sigh deep from his chest. He understood she was worried, he was too but what could some doctor with a fancy degree tell him that he couldn't already tell himself? Repressed memories of seeing you mother killed before your eyes are causing your nightmares. You have to face you demons head on and confront your inner child. What's more blah, blah, blah. Hermione couldn't expect him to go to a therapist if that's what he was going to hear.

"Let'em do what he wants Hermione. You got no right to tell him what to do." He appreciate Ron's defense but this could only lead one way and he really wasn't up for that tonight.

"Oh and suddenly you're an expert, hm, Ron?"

"No but I'm not trying to rule his life!" At this he gave her a pointed look. She glared back just as fiercely. Harry began rubbing his temples, wondering which hurt more torture, death dreams or listening to this babble.

"I'm trying to help him. This way he can work through his problems instead of ignoring them." She shot back daring him to challenge her again.

"Oh yeah—!"

"Guys!" They both stopped short faces crossed with a mix of angry, confusion and guilt. "Lets just go to bed." Harry said trying to keep the yawn out of his voice failing miserably.

"Yes, Harry's right. We all need our rest for tomorrow." Hermione stated eyes dropping rapidly against her will.

"What's," Ron let out a loud obnoxious yawn, "tomorrow?"

"Honestly Ron." Hermione huffed. " It's to late for this. Go to sleep." With this she snuggled into Harry's red satin sheets. "G'night." Harry bid her a good night as well barrowing deeper into the red blankets that—hopefully—would lead to sweeter dreams then his previous attempts. He felt Ron settle in too and expected to hear snoring any second however Ron was never one for tact.

"Hey, how will explain this if someone walks in?"

"Go to sleep Ron."

* * *

Harry awoke to the smell of bacon, pancakes and Ron horrible morning breath. Snoring loudly in Harry's left ear he mumbled jumbled words about mcnuggests and French fries. Pushing the redhead off him—somehow Ron had thrown one of his massive arms around Harry's waist in the course of the night. Harry walked into the kitchen to see Hermione's bushy brown hair bouncing around the hot stoves singing—horribly off key—to _Maps_. If there was one thing American produced well it was music. Though the quality had been declining as of late. "Love this song," he said smiling as the other jumped clearly startled by his sudden appearance.

"Harry you prat," she slapped him on the arm playfully. "Come, help me with breakfast." Having learned to cook from Remus Harry proceeded to flip pancakes with ease and skill. All the while Hermione worked on setting the table and finishing off the bacon. They worked in unison, as years of living together will do. Harry had actually met Hermione when they were ten. The Death Eaters had tortured Hermiones' parents leaving the Order had taken her in. Remus had offended her a home and a new chance at a family. No one could ever turn down such kind eyes and Hermione quickly became part of their family.

Harry remembered the haunted look in her eyes. So scared and frightened. He had mentioned it to Remus on one occasion. Inquiring as to why the newest member to their household was so quiet and withdrawn. Remus said she was like him in many ways suffering from the never-ending nightmare of seeing the horrors only Death Eaters could bring. At the time Harry felt no one could understand how he felt. And still no one could, but Hermione came quite close. He caught her one night, tossing and turning about in her bed. First he heard moans, then cries, then outright screams. Worried he found her thrashing about screaming something about 'remember me! Remember please!'. To this day he still didn't know what she was talking about. Some demons weren't meant to be fully shared he supposed. Harry did learn however that someone very close had betrayed her, which resulted in her parents' torture as well as their departure from her life. That night Harry told her about how his parents were also murdered by Death Eaters. He had shown her his scar and she had cried in his arms. They were the closest of friends ever since.

Her and Ron however were oil spattered about an ocean. Never truly mixing yet somewhere along the way they too became close friends. Siblings, family, always together never apart. They joined the order together when they each turned seventeen. Afterwards setting out found Voldemort leader of the Death Eaters together. Now Harry was turning twenty-two and their search had landed them in American a few years back. They worked with the American branch of the Order tracking a lead that had went cold a year back. Still they never gave up. Even now when it seemed that they'd never find the most infamous crime lord the world had ever known.

"Ronald! Ron!" Hermione called trying to prompt the redhead out of his deep-seated slumber. " Oh I swear." She threw her arms up in aspiration and stomped into the bedroom. Harry laughed as he heard an undignified swawk and loud slam followed by a string of curses. Setting down a plate of fresh pancakes and orange juice he began to eat.

"Bloody hell woman! Damned near broke my arm!" Ron whined cradling the wounded amperage. Hermione merely huffed and seated herself as well. "Huff at me…" Ron mumbled under his breath.

"Say something Ron?" Hermione asked icily.

"Nope nothing. Just reaching for the phone to file assault charges."

"Oh for heaven's sake! All's I did was pull the covers off." Hermione cried stabbing a pancake.

"And sent me to the floor!" Ah Harry truly loved mornings.

* * *

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all walked into one of the many back alleys of New York City. At first when McGonagall had assigned them here—under direct orders if Dumbledore they were excited. After all New York City was one of the most well renowned places on the planet. In truth it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Very crowded, everybody was always glued to their cell-phones; many had few manners, and _lots_ of trash. Though seeing the Statue of Liberty was a sight Harry had been very glad to see.

As they walked they came face to face with a dead end. Harry walked up to it, tapped a few stones and watched as a door squeaked open. The three walked inside care to keep an eye out for any suspicious looking people who could have followed. The Trio were confronted with the sight of their assigned Guardian, Dean Thomas. It was a Guardians' job to keep tabs on their assigned making sure they were safe and ready for their next mission. Following him down the twisting stairwells they were taken into various dark corners moving left, right, until a spark of light revealed Ministry 2.

The Ministry bustled with activity as Auror agents ferried about like busy bees in a hive. None were busier than Ron, Hermione and Harry who followed behind their Guardian Dean attempting to keep up with his quick pace. Dodging follow Order members, they passed through a series of corridors. Rooms glittered in and out of sight. Testing labs, weapons helm, offices, until finally they reached their destination. Dean practically pushed the trio into a vacant elevator before mumbling about the minister wanting—needing if the stress in Dean's voice gave away any hints—them immediately. Pressing a few buttons in quick succession he bid them farewell and disappear as they lowered out of sight.

Harry felt his palms sweat only adding to the uncomfortable knotting in his stomach. He didn't like small places. In fact he absolutely hated closets or cupboards. Something about them just sent him off into a claustrophobic fit. Hermione said it had something to do with bad childhood memories. Ron said he was just being a girl. Which of course sparked another argument between the two about gender stereotypes and prejudices, leaving Harry all alone to face his fears.

Within a few minuets Harry and co. were facing off with the ministry. He was a skinny man with big shoulders, wide frame, pointed chin, small beady blue eyes, and dark hair greased over trying to stretch out the thinning strains. He held out on of his bony hands mentioning them to each take a seat in an overly large beige chairs. It felt to Harry as if the monstrous chair was trying to swallow him whole. He glanced over to his companions to see they too, were also battling the man-eating chairs.

"I'm sure you're all very excited to be invited here," the minister stated tone filled with pride border lining condescending. If Harry had been excited in any sense of the word it would have vanished as soon as the old man opened his mouth. Glancing over to Ron and Hermione Harry was glad to see their own sour faces that reflected his own. They'd just never get used to the arrogance many American's seemed to have. Clearing his voice the ministry began again, "you see I've recently been informed you four are to return to England as soon as possible. Now why they only requested you fou—"

"Wait four?" Hermione inquired aloud cutting the minister short mid-rant. With a raise of an eyebrow she shot both boys confused and suspicious looks. Unless her math was off—which it never was—there were only three of them? While most Auror agents worked in pairs they had been allowed the special privilege of working as a trio. While it had built up some quiet resentment among their follow agents many understood why. For any one with eyes could see why they made such an amazing team. Hermione with her smarts and knowledge of tactics and strategy, Ron with his straightforward thinking and taking action attitude, and Harry with a strange wonderful mix of both yet with a dash of something completely him—instincts. Yes they made a fine team, the three of them, so why now would someone want to upset such a delicate—yet nearly flawless—balance?

Speaking aloud Harry voiced this concern, which sent the minister of into another long-winded rant. "I have only been given the bare minimum of details," he answered gruffly clearly upset of not being fully informed and so thought of something less than important. Running a hair over his barley there greasy hair he handed each a manila folder. Then he ordered them to only open the folders once they had reached London. Nodding the team waited patiently to be dismissed. " One more thing," he said with a sense of foreboding suddenly permeating the air, "your Guardian is the only other who has any idea you are here understood?" They nodded. "He will take you to the airport where you. Once there you can open your folders, inside will be instructions for you to follow before you return to the London base. Understood." Nodding obediently he looked then into each of their eyes as if sending them a secret message of sorts. Harry felt as if he understood the message in a sense. For a series of shivers ran marathons up and down his arms. The finish line being the small hairs that ran up his neck, which rose to applaud accordingly. For some reason Harry didn't see any bright lights or fireworks in his future, only darkness and blood.

* * *

Dean had walked them out quickly briefing them on his part in their newest play. He was only to be a driver nothing more. Drive them to the airport, get their tickets and make sure they got on the plane safely. Oh and one more thing, make sure they didn't open their packages.

"Do you know what's in this Dean?" Harry asked on their way out. They were given a total of four hours to pack up all their important belongings and head out. Their apartment would be taken care of while they were gone.

Dean shook his head. "I wish I could tell you but I don't even know. My job is only to watch over you three. Act as an informant between the Order and my charges. That's a Guardian's job. We know nothing but the bare minimum so were not a flight risk to anyone. We're basically glorified taxi drivers or babysitter or delivery boys." Dean spoke with a mixture of resentment coloring his voice. Harry came up behind him giving him a quick but firm pat on the shoulder.

"Trust me mate, if you'd seen the things I've seen being a delivery boy sounds pretty good." Dean smiled ruefully as if wishing he could completely believe Harry. Perhaps he could if Harry wasn't such a bad liar. The truth was Harry would never give up his job. Not for anyone or anything. The job was his life. His mission. He sought to kill his parents' killer, he swore it. So no matter how many losses or trails he was faced with he'd follow through with that vow. He'd get his revenge no matter what.

The three of them packed as quickly as they could. Ron's method was to stuff everything he could in his suitcase. It was quite comical for at one point when Ron grabbed a heapful of clothes from one of his drawers he slipped on a sock he dropped earlier. He was sent flying in the air landing on his rump with an undignified 'ompf' feet sticking in the air clothes scattered about the room, many of which he was currently buried under.

"Honestly Ron!" Hermione huffed irritated at the messy display. "Can't you keep serious for a single moment?" She rummaged about quickly making sure everything was in working order, all the windows were locked, stove was off, dishes washed, Harry's head began to spin watching her scurry around the apartment.

"Oi? Right cause I just so wanted to fall flat on my arse?" The remark would have been taken more seriously had Ron not had a pair of white underwear hanging from his ear.

"Um…Ron…" Harry motioned to his ear hoping Ron would catch the hint. He did blushing darkly and cursing at 'damn women' and 'bloody bleeding socks'.

When everything was packed away and ready to go they bid their apartment one last adieu. Squeezing in Deans' small red convertible they started off on their journey. Suddenly Ron let out a loud shriek. Harry did sometimes wonder how so many sounds could form in one-person's vocal cords.

"Wait."

"What now Ron?" Hermione asked impatiently.

"I forget to grab my mcnuggets." Harry, Hermione, and even Dean were dumbfounded, to shocked to speak. "What? Don't look at me like that just cause none of you appreciated the mcnugget beauty."

"Ron?"

"Yeah Harry?"

"Shut up."

"Yes Harry"

* * *

At the airport once they had received their tickets they bid Dean one finally fond farewell. He grabbed Harry into an innocent goodbye hug whispering 'good luck and be careful it's a funky town up there' before letting him go. Harry nodded once before turning away.

Once seated comfortably—or as comfortably as one could get with a baby crying one row behind you and a group of cheerleaders called the _Veela_ bouncing about in tiny tops—Harry turned to his friends. "Dean said there's trouble ahead." Hermione gave him a bemused looked. "Death eaters" he verified. Her and Ron nodded. She turned to a magazine with little interest as a thoughtful look etched out on her face.

"We'll have to be careful then. Or more so at least." Harry and Ron both agreed. Harry had a bad feeling for a while now. Little beautifies had meta-morphed in stomach into gnawing dragons eating at his entrails. Perhaps a bit to graphic but Harry had that tendency when things started looking bad. Feeling a light tap on his arm he took the offered piece of gum from Hermione's fingers and started chewing. With a jerk of sudden speed the plane was up in the air thus sending them one step closer to the final destination.

"Hey Harry Dean warn you about the," her voice lowered, "you know what's?"

Harry coughed a light blush dusting his cheeks. H mumbled something under his breath that Hermione didn't catch. "What?"

"Funky town." She raised an eyebrow. Hey I didn't come up with it! Hermione's lips twisted into a guilty smile, as Ron let out wave after wave of loud laughter. Finally Hermione joined in to until Harry too was laughing. If only these moments could last.

An hour or so passed when Harry heard a voice next to him.

"Oh? And what to zee 'ave 'ere?" Harry looked up only to be confronted with the sight of a very pretty blonde girl along with her very tight low-cut top. Blushing furiously Harry jumped back as far as his seat would let him. The girl laughed and Harry swore he saw many of the male passengers swoon. Including Ron. "Za name iz Fleur. Fleur Delacour " Her words coated with honey-flavored sweetness. Her smile widened at Harry's red face and leaned farther into Harry. He just had to pick the aisle seat didn't he? How was he suppose to know he would get harassed by some french cheerleader? Really he had all the luck.

"Yes, well," Hermione cut in glaring at the pretty blonde. "It's certainly a pleasure meeting you." Though Hermione gave off signals that spoke volumes of what she felt for the girl; none being pleasure. "As you can clearly see we were in the middle of a very important conversation." Hermione spoke slowly as if dealing with a child of three. "So I'm you have better things to do like meet with someone in the closest bathroom." Harry blanched shocked Hermione would say such a thing. Her protective mother habits were getting to be too much.

Fleur looked clearly stunned not to mention furious. Facing forward stiffly she ignored them but not before shooting Harry a flirty wink. " Gezz Harry you get all the luck." Ron groaned begrudgingly. Hermione glared hotly before snapping. "Yes for that's just the kind of girl Harry needs."

"'ey if she good enough for me."

"Any one blonde bimbo is good enough for you," she huffed before opening up a book by Bathilda Bagshot. She didn't say much for the rest of the plane ride. Neither did Ron for that matter who clearly took offense to Hermoine's comment. Harry felt his body sink into the cushiony chair not really understanding what Hermione was so upset about. Sleep fuzzed around the corners of his green eyes before everything went dark with dreams.

'…_arry…'_

Was someone calling him?

'…_arry…help…'_

Yes. Yes someone was calling him, but whom?

'Harry….help…'

_Who are you? Who? I'm coming_! He shouted only to stop short as a green light flashed ripping past his face in flash. Oh no! Was he too late? Another green light flashed, then another, oh and all the while Harry could hear his mystery person's agonizing screams. He was getting close now, closer, _I'm here. I'm coming! Hold on! Oh gods please hold on!_

'Arry…Harry…'

"Harry!"

"What?" He jerked stopping short at the pull against his stomach. Then he noticed he was still strapped to his seat with Hermione and Ron over looking him both with worried anxious eyes.

"Are you alright mate?" Ron asked obviously concerned. Harry nodded stiffly cracking his neck a few times getting control over his soar muscles. He noticed the other passengers removing their belongings from the plane and began their line to leave. Unbuckling his seatbelt Harry, too, began to gather up his things. As soon as they stepped off the plane and reached the lobby Ron wanted to open their packages.

Hermione scoffed with a shake of her head, "I don't believe that's a good idea Ron."

"Why not," he whined. The curiosity was all but killing him. It was like a really big red button right in front of you begging you to push, push, push! "The minister said we could."

"Because Ron—" Her words stopped just shy of leaving her throat. She made a choked gagging sound before it morphed into a wet gurgle. Harry turned around to see what was wrong only to be confronted with the sight of blood dribbling out the corner of her mouth. Deep, dark, thick blood spilling out like water through a cracked dam spread out from the wound in Hermione's shoulder. Scared was the only word Harry could think of at the moment to describe what he was feeling. Then nothing. Blank. Shock. That's when instinct took over as he rushed to her side placing pressure on the wound in an attempt to halt the blood flow. In a way she was lucky, the bullet—from the size and shape of the wound it couldn't have been much else—had only pierced her shoulder. Where the shot had come from however, was a troubling matter for another time.

Hermione however, didn't deal well with blood, the sight, the smell. She lost her balance falling to her knees. Her eyes wide with panic skin growing more and more pale as the seconds ticked on. Harry heard Ron shout for someone to call for an ambulance. Then quickly rushed off sprinting into the distance.

Harry's head hurt. People were screaming, staring, gawking, running and talking. Why were they just standing there like his friend—sister almost—was going into shock, was bleeding profusely from the newly punctured hole in her shoulder? What was wrong with them? He heard the stomping footsteps of Ron who was pulling his suitcase behind him, rush up rip the top open and yank out a medical kit.

Scrabbling he found some gauze, scissors, and antiseptic. "We need to cut her shirt." Ron tore off the plastic packaging of the antiseptic with his teeth while he made short work of Hermione's yellow shirt now colored into a dark mustard mud. Harry could only stare in awe at the earnest look in Rons' eyes. He knew that dispute all their constant—frankly annoying—fighting at the end of the day Ron and Hermione were like family. Losing one would kill the other. Holes in ones hearts don't just form, they're craved out with painful dull knives left to bleed. Especially in their line of work. "She'll hate me for this later 'm sure." Ron chuckled humorlessly as he finished disinfecting Hermione's wound. He made sure the wrappings were secure then backed away a glazed look filling his eyes.

Harry placed a sturdy hand on his friends shoulder as he noticed the redhead swaying in warning. "Deep breaths Ron," he spoke softly, trying to copy the soothing tone Mrs. Weasley adopted when dealing with her children. " Deep breathes." Slowly Ron's eyes began to clear as well as his head. Breathing in and out steadying his frame he packed up their medical kit. Both boys glanced down at the girl of their concern. Her breathing had evened out, her skin regained some color but it was clear she was still in a lot of pain.

Ron sighed letting out a lackluster laugh. "Some homecoming eh?"

"Yeah," and he too joined in the fake pitiful laughter, "some homecoming."

* * *

Juvy: I think I went linebreak crazy. Well hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading.


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